


Like Ships Passing in the Night

by RoseFyre



Series: Hunger Games Soulmate Fics [16]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: 65th Hunger Games, 70th Hunger Games, 74th Hunger Games, 75th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Background Everlark - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Demisexuality, F/M, Platonic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, background katniss/peeta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 10:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17847605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseFyre/pseuds/RoseFyre
Summary: Soulmarks.They can be simple, just two words.Or they can tell you far more than you ever wanted to know... such as exactly when you're going to win the Hunger Games.Either way, they'll change the direction of your life.





	1. Childhood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FanficAllergy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficAllergy/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for FanficAllergy and is completely written...and currently in the process of being edited.
> 
> Happy birthday to my usual co-author!

**oOo**

 

Effie Trinket didn’t know when she’d gotten her soulmark.

 

Oh, she knew she’d been five.  But the exact date was a mystery.  

 

The grandiose bronze handwriting reading simply * _Miss Trinket_ * had appeared one day and she hadn’t even noticed!  The perils of having one’s soulmark on the back of one’s thigh, she supposed.

 

When she first discovered it she was excited, full of hope for when she’d meet her soulmate.

 

But her mother wasn’t.  “Don’t act like a common district ragamuffin, Euphemia.  We are Capitol.”

 

Effie knew what that meant.  Straightening her posture and making certain her wig hadn’t fallen off or gone askew, she said, “I’m sorry, Mother.”  Then she turned at her mother’s gesture so her mother could see her leg.

 

“Well, at least it’s somewhere you can hide it,” her mother said, examining the mark.  “Besides, with such a generic phrase, it’s unlikely you’ll even know when you meet them.”

 

Effie’s chin jutted out.  “I bet I will.”

 

Her mother raised a single perfectly manicured eyebrow.  “If you say so.”

 

But her mother was right.  In the three months between her discovery of her soulmark and her sixth birthday, Effie was greeted as “Miss Trinket” no less than nine times.  None of those people were the right age, of course. But with such a generic phrase, such perfectly practiced handwriting, and a wide range of dates for her soulmate’s birthdate, how on earth was she to find them?

 

**oOo**

 

No one had done an official study, but in Panem, approximately one out of every five children was born with a soulmark, and another one out of every five acquired one later in life.

 

The Odair family proved the rule.  After four children who were unlucky -- or perhaps lucky -- enough to be born unmarked, their fifth child popped out of the womb with fancy flamingo pink writing wrapped all the way around his hips.

 

As Finnick’s father read the words, his expression fell.  He silently handed the baby to his wife, who turned the infant so she could read the words as well.

 

“Well,” she said, then closed her mouth.  Her lips trembled as her son began to shriek.  Putting him to her breast, she stroked one hand over his almost hairless head.  “I suppose we know he’ll win.”

 

“But so young.”  His voice broke.

 

She shook her head.  “Far better than him losing.”

 

Her husband hesitated but eventually nodded.  “Far better.”

 

**oOo**

 

By the time Effie was eleven, she’d given up on finding her soulmate.

 

In the five and a half years she’d been counting, over two hundred people had greeted her with the words “Miss Trinket.”  Over two hundred! And she knew she’d missed some.

 

And this year in school they’d had a lesson about the myth of soulmates.  How soulmates were an affront to the Capitol. How nothing could be more important than the Capitol.  How they weren’t real anyway, just a hoax and a lie. Haymitch Abernathy was used as an example.

 

Effie shuddered.  Everyone knew about Haymitch Abernathy.

 

That wouldn’t be her.  It wouldn’t.

 

Instead, she turned her interest to other, more important things.  Such as her dreams of becoming a fashion designer. And keeping herself at the top of the pecking order among her group of friends.  And her first real crush, on the Victor of the Fifty-Seventh Hunger Games, a gorgeous eighteen-year-old from District One named Diamond. Every time she saw him, her heart flipped a little.

 

And if it flipped even more at the thought of her soulmate one day greeting her with a bow and a kiss to the hand and a sensuous voice saying, “Miss Trinket”?

 

Well, that wasn’t anyone’s business but her own.

 

**oOo**

 

When Finnick was six, his parents sat him down and explained why, even though his soulmark outright said he would win the Hunger Games, they weren’t sending him to the training camp.

 

Oh, they said all sorts of things, things like “We don’t want you to feel like you have to go into the Games” and “Most people don’t have soulmates and live perfectly happy lives” and “You could be a great fisherman, you know.”

 

Finnick nodded along but inwardly rolled his eyes.  No one ever told his third-oldest sister that she shouldn’t be excited to meet the soulmate whose words had appeared when she was four.  But the ocean blue * _I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you!_ * on her shoulder was far less worrisome than his.

 

Well, if he couldn’t go to the training camp, he’d just have to train even harder in the after school classes all the kids in Four attended.  And on his own, whenever he could.

 

Because even if his parents hoped he might be able to avoid the Games, he knew the truth.

 

There was no avoiding fate.

 

**oOo**

 

Designing fashion wasn’t nearly as fun as Effie had always thought it would be.

 

Possibly -- most likely, a little part of her whispered -- because she wasn’t very good at it.

 

Oh, she’d tried.  But somehow it always seemed to come out wrong.  Her sewing wasn’t right, her clothing fell apart, and everything was just that tiny bit off.  Even her designs were a failure.

 

Effie Trinket was never going to make it as a designer, and by the time she was seventeen, she knew it.

 

“It’s terrible,” she told her mother one day when they were at their favorite wig store.  “I’m never going to be a fashion designer.”

 

Her mother peered at herself in the mirror and adjusted the ice blue wig, setting it more firmly on her forehead.  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

 

“But what am I supposed to do now?  I’ve lost my dream! It’s the worst thing in the world!”

 

“I’ll take this one,” her mother said to the clerk and handed him the wig, then turned back to her.  “Euphemia. You will find something. Perhaps you should go into politics.”

 

Effie wrinkled her nose.  Politics was boring.

 

Her mother frowned.  “Well, you’ll find something.”

 

The clerk slid the bill to her mother, who signed.  Then he handed her the bag containing her brand new wig.  “Madam Trinket.” He nodded at Effie. “Miss Trinket.”

 

Unwillingly, her heart sped up.  She blushed. “Oh, well, thank you ever so much, your store is simply lovely.”

 

But he didn’t react.

 

Tamping down her disappointment, Effie followed her mother out of the store and to a nearby cafe.

 

Her mother eyed her as they sat down.  “You’re still hoping for a soulmate.”

 

Effie looked down.  “Not really.”

 

“Hmph.  Love is a myth, Euphemia.  Soulmates are a tragedy at best.  If you want sex, either find a willing boy or girl or just buy it.”

 

Effie looked at her mother, who was clearly speaking from experience.  She wondered if her mother had ever loved her father, or if he’d been a fling.  Or bought and paid for. Part of her wanted to know, but the rest of her very much didn’t.

 

Tearing her gaze away from her mother and toward one of the screens showing a replay of the Reaping for the Sixty-Third Hunger Games, she decided it didn’t matter whether she ever met her soulmate or not.

 

Effie Trinket was going to make something of herself.  And she would do it with or without her soulmate.

 

**oOo**

 

The Hunger Games were somehow more real when you were eligible for them.

 

Up until now, even with his soulmark, Finnick had been removed from them.  Distant. Able to keep himself separate.

 

Now, standing in the square, waiting to see if his name was called, he couldn’t.

 

A shudder ran through him at the thought.  He knew fate would hold, that he would meet his soulmate; when the teacher had brought it up in school last year, she’d discussed how soulmates always met their other halves.  He knew he would survive the Games. But part of him was terrified of dying anyway.

 

His name wasn’t called.  Not this year.

 

Not that he’d really expected it.

 

After the Reaping ended, after he knew he was safe for another year, he stayed in the square, watching as everyone left -- first the tributes, then the Victors, then the regular citizens of Four, then the Peacekeepers.  Finally there were only the people taking down the stage and cleaning up the mess. While it wasn’t a holiday and there was no food, you couldn’t cram that many teenagers in one place and avoid any mess at all.

 

Finnick forced his mind back to the Games.  Was he ready for that? Could he kill other children?

 

He’d have to.

 

If he wanted to meet his soulmate, he’d have to.

 

For a second he debated.  Did he need his soulmate that badly?  Would his life be incomplete without them?

 

But fate would have its way.  He knew that well enough.

 

No.  He could do this.  He would do this. In two years, Finnick Odair would be on that stage, and soon after he would win the Games.

 

After all, it was fated.

 

**oOo**


	2. Games

**oOo**

 

Effie still had no idea what she wanted to do with her life.

 

She’d been a failure at everything she’d tried.  Designing clothing? Terrible. Reporting? Her voice was apparently ‘too squeaky.’  Continuing in school? Her grades were horrid and she disliked school anyway. Acting?  Despite numerous auditions, she’d never gotten cast, not even once. Becoming a chef? She could burn water.  Politics? She couldn’t lie well enough. The list went on and on.

 

She’d even stooped so low as to consider trying to work in a shop, but her mother had vetoed that idea, stating that it was far too low-class.  Not that she really wanted to work in a shop anyway.

 

And now she was nineteen years old and utterly confused.

 

She moped around her mother’s house, feeling lost.  What ever was she to do?

 

In fact, she was so stuck in her brooding she completely lost track of the days.

 

The television automatically turning on shocked her out of her sulk.  Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out why it was doing that. Was President Snow giving an important address?

 

But as the stirring music rang out, she knew he wasn’t.  No. Today was the start of the Hunger Games.

 

She’d always loved the Hunger Games.  The pageantry, the glory, the excitement of it all -- back when she’d wanted to design, the tribute costumes had been one of her goals.  Oh certainly, it was sad that twenty-three children had to die, but that was the price the districts paid for their rebellion. It was only just.

 

And it was so exciting!

 

Effie watched the Reapings, her eyes lingering on the tributes.  The two from One and Two looked as strong as normal, as did the girl from Four.  The boy looked a bit young, but he’d volunteered -- he might be a worthy tribute.  The tributes from Three, Five, Six, Eight, Nine, and Eleven were all quite pathetic, as were the boys from Seven and Ten and the girl from Twelve.  The girl from Seven might stand a chance. The girl from Ten wasn’t bad. And the boy from Twelve looked surprisingly strong for that usually useless district.

 

As she cataloged their chances, she considered who to place her annual bet on along with which tribute to sponsor.  Usually she’d go for District One -- her favorite -- but something about the boy from Four…

 

She also remembered something else.  There were Capitol people involved in the Games in ways other than designing.

 

An escort… that could be the job for her.

 

**oOo**

 

Finnick wasn’t surprised when Mags pulled him into a private compartment as soon as they were on the train.

 

“Why did you volunteer, child?”  She held up a hand. “And don’t give me that bunk you told Calpurnia about the glory of the Games and not being able to wait.”  She shook her head. “If you were eighteen and your skills matched your appearance, I’d bet on you. But you’re fourteen. No one’s ever won the Games at fourteen.”

 

He knew that.  It was why Four always had volunteers for the younger kids who were called.  They only sent sixteen-year-olds and up, kids who actually had a decent chance.

 

But he’d volunteered.  At fourteen, he’d volunteered before an eighteen-year-old -- the usual volunteers -- could.

 

For an instant Finnick considered lying.  But Mags was… well, she was Mags. The Victor of the Seventh Hunger Games, one of the few people left in Four who still remembered the Dark Days.  The Mayor might officially be in charge, but no one in the district argued with Mags.

 

And she was staring at him like she could see right through him.

 

Wordlessly he lifted his shirt and inched his pants down just far enough for Mags to see the pink words which still wrapped all the way around his hips.

 

* _Oh my, it’s such an honor to meet you!  It’s not every day one gets to meet the youngest Victor in the history of the Games -- winning at fourteen is simply amazing!  I’m ever so pleased to meet you!_ *

 

“I’ve always known I would win.”

 

Mags nodded slowly.  “I see. I hope you still want that by the time you…”  She gestured at his words.

 

“I want to meet--”

 

She held up a hand.  “Don’t say anything you don’t want others to hear, lad.  You’d best learn that lesson sooner rather than later.”

 

And with those foreboding words, she left the compartment.

 

Finnick put his clothes back and followed, a wave of dread just starting to form within him.  What had Mags meant? Who was listening?

 

Was his soulmate worth this?

 

He shook it off as they entered the dining car.  It wasn’t like he could change anything now. He couldn’t exactly un-volunteer.

 

“Finnick’s mine,” Mags said to the group of Victors.  She took the seat at the head of the table, gesturing Finnick to the other empty chair halfway down one side.  “Who wants Mahi?”

 

Fisk, Victor of the Forty-Sixth Hunger Games, raised a hand.  “I’ll mentor.”

 

All of them ignored the way Mahi was glaring at Finnick.  Everyone in Four knew Mags only took tributes who had a shot.

 

The odds had just moved in his favor.

 

**oOo**

 

The Games were even more exciting than Effie had expected.  Finnick Odair, the boy from Four, ensnared the Capitol in his spell.  He was beautiful, amazing, strong… and certain he would win.

 

Despite his age, he quickly became the favorite.  What a shame it would be to see him die!

 

And what glory he would bring the Capitol if he won.

 

Effie couldn’t help it; she was swiftly swept up in the drama of it all.  Her money went to Finnick, and when he received that glorious golden trident, she knew she’d helped make it happen.

 

By the end, when he stood victorious, she couldn’t imagine the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games happening any other way.  And neither could anyone else.

 

More than ever, she wanted to be involved in the Games.  Luckily, there was even an escort slot opening up!

 

...In Twelve, but still!

 

The job was hers, the tribute she’d supported had won the Hunger Games, and Effie’s life was looking up.

 

**oOo**

 

He’d won the Games.

 

Killed four other kids, including a terrified twelve-year-old.  His final fight, against the girl from Two, still played in his mind.

 

He’d won.

 

Just as he’d always known he would.

 

Now he could meet his soulmate.

 

He held onto that thought.  He could see his future stretching out ahead of him, years and years of mentoring terrified kids.  Years and years of returning to the Capitol to once again live through the Games.

 

But at least he’d have his soulmate with him, right?

 

Finnick went through the next few days in a daze, barely paying attention to anything around him.  He healed from his wounds, went to the Victory Ceremony, watched the recap, managed to talk to Caesar, got through the banquet…

 

And he did all of it while completely numb.

 

Mags took him up to the roof of the Training Center after the banquet, pulling him through Twelve’s rooms -- where Haymitch Abernathy had passed out drunk on the sofa -- and up a small staircase.  “It’s safe to speak up here,” she said. “As safe as anywhere is in the Capitol.” She looked at him, her eyes sad. “You’ll get through this, child.”

 

“I’m not a child.”

 

“You’re all children to me.”

 

He shrugged.  She wasn’t wrong.

 

“But no, you’re not a child, not truly.”

 

“I…”  He licked his lips.  “Is it worth it? Winn--”  No. That was the wrong word.  “Surviving?”

 

Mags’s lips quirked, but not in a real smile.  She squeezed his hand. “No. And you know that already.  But we’re survivors, lad. It’s not in us to give up and die.  You’ve got us all as family now. Not just the Victors from Four, but all of us.  It won’t be easy. I won’t lie to you. But you’ll survive.”

 

He nodded.  His eyes were dry; he hadn’t cried since before the Games.  “I’ll survive.”

 

She gently tugged him forward and down to kiss him on the forehead.  He suddenly realized he was taller than her. When had that happened?  Mags had always been such a personality. She’d loomed so large. But in reality, she was tiny.

 

But still powerful.

 

Her kiss made him feel like his parents were there.  Or his grandmother, though she’d died five years ago.

 

He could do this.  He could.

 

He would.

 

**oOo**


	3. Meeting

**oOo**

 

Effie was so excited!

 

It was the first time she’d been invited to a presidential party -- in this case, the banquet after the end of the Hunger Games.

 

Admittedly, District Twelve had done abominably in this year’s Games, with both tributes dead within a minute of the starting gong.  Those spiked maces had been rather brutal.

  
But she was still an escort.  And still a part of the Hunger Games.

 

...And unfortunately responsible for making sure Haymitch Abernathy didn’t make too much of a fool of himself.

 

She did her best to enjoy the food, the drinks, the conversation -- all the while following Haymitch with her eyes so she’d know if he started to cause a scene.

 

She was in line to meet Finnick Odair -- last year’s Victor -- when Haymitch started staggering.

 

Sighing, she left the crowd and got an Avox to help her lead Haymitch back to the Training Center.

 

He staggered through the halls, stumbling as he walked.  But she managed to get him to the District Twelve rooms and onto the sofa, where he promptly collapsed, snoring.

 

She groaned and straightened her wig.

 

What an utter mess.

 

**oOo**

 

Finnick greeted people, joked, ate.

 

Pretended he was enjoying himself.

 

It felt almost like he wasn’t really there, like someone or something else was controlling his body instead of him.  

 

Mags, Fisk, Natalie, Kaya, Skiff, Jack -- all of them were doing their best to be helpful.  Supportive. Even the Victors from the rest of the districts did what they could.

 

It only helped so much.

 

Remembering the twelve-year-old who he’d volunteered for, whose life he’d saved -- his third-oldest sister’s soulmate, unexpectedly -- helped more.

 

But even that wasn’t enough.

 

Once Four’s tributes had died, he’d been sold.  His body no longer belonged to him. It belonged to the Capitol.  It belonged to President Snow. And the two weeks he’d had were already more than enough.

 

Mags had prepared him the best she could.  But he hadn’t been prepared for the anger. He was a killer.  He’d killed four children. What was to stop him from killing this Capitol bastard who’d bought him?

 

Of course, it wasn’t that simple.  He had people he cared about. Mags, the other Victors.  His family. His friends. All of District Four.

 

But now, looking at the words around his hips -- hidden by makeup whenever he had an assignation -- he wasn’t so sure he wanted to meet his soulmate after all.  The lettering was far too fancy to belong to anyone but a Capitolite. And to think his soulmate was one of these people, one of these gluttonous self-centered peacocks who knew nothing of the Districts, of being a Victor, of going hungry…

 

He laughed at something the woman speaking to him said while he watched the crowd.  Oh good, one of the people waiting to speak to him was moving away… toward Haymitch of all people.  Must be his escort. One fewer to have to be polite to. Silently he thanked the other Victor.

 

Another of the twittering birds came to him then.  “Oh my, it’s such an honor to meet you!”

 

His heart sank.

 

“I bet on you last year and I was so glad when you won!”

 

Not his soulmate.  Silently he thanked everything he could think of, but he put on his false face and said, “Well, I’m glad to meet you as well.”

 

She blushed.  “Oh, thank you!”  Then she continued babbling.

 

While he interjected appropriate nods and hums, he thought about how close this twittering bird, this doll, this plastic person had come to being his soulmate.  

 

No.  He didn’t want to meet them.  And if he did? He’d have to find a way to make sure they never knew it was him.

 

**oOo**

 

This year was going to go better than last.  Effie was sure of it.

 

Instead of leaving Haymitch to his own devices, she kept him with her and made sure to ply him with food as well as the alcohol.

 

He seemed less drunk, anyway, even if he spent a lot of time watching the newest Victor, a girl from Seven who’d been so smart to pretend she was meek… and then come out as a vicious killer!  These Games had been ever so exciting.

 

Dragging Haymitch to another group, she was pleased to find it included Finnick Odair, who she hadn’t gotten to meet last year.  They joined the group as Honoria Templesmith flittered away, and Effie elbowed Haymitch as daintily as she could. “Introduce me.”

 

The man scowled at her but waved a hand at her.  “My escort, Effie Trinket. You know Finnick.”

 

Finnick Odair bowed and took her hand, kissing it lightly.  “Miss Trinket,” he said, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine.

 

A part of her stood on tenterhooks as it always did.  She’d lost count a long time ago of the number of people who greeted her as ‘Miss Trinket,’ but part of her would always hope.

 

“Oh my, it’s such an honor to meet you!  It’s not every day one gets to meet the youngest Victor in the history of the Games -- winning at fourteen is simply amazing!  I’m ever so pleased to meet you!”

 

His eyes flashed and a sensual smile spread across his lips.  “It’s my pleasure.”

 

But he didn’t react, not really.  So he couldn’t be her soulmate. Shoving down her slight disappointment, Effie smiled and batted her eyes.  Goodness he was so handsome.

 

Of course, Haymitch had to go and ruin it.  

 

The intolerable man chose that moment to vomit.  All over her brand new shoes!

 

She plastered a smile to her face and called for an Avox, then dragged her charge out of the room.

 

Maybe next year she’d draw Haymitch back to his rooms early with the promise of alcohol.  At least then she could go back to the party and enjoy herself, unlike this year, when she was still covered in vomit!

 

Sighing, she returned to the rooms in the Training Center, pulling Haymitch with her.  Maybe she’d be able to get a shower there.

 

**oOo**

 

Finnick had been hoping that two years after winning the Hunger Games, his popularity would have faded.

 

Fat chance of that.

 

Oh, sure, the Capitol liked Timon well enough, and they were fascinated by Johanna.  But Finnick’s popularity hadn’t waned at all.

 

He still had a list of patrons to satisfy.

 

This was his life now: training the schoolkids throughout the year, mentoring tributes through the Games, and fucking whoever President Snow pointed him at.

 

His patrons had started giving him gifts: jewels, money, more things than he’d ever been able to dream of as a fishing village kid growing up in Four.  Last night, he’d asked for a new sort of payment.

 

A secret.

 

It burned in his brain, the truth the Education Minister’s wife had told him about President Snow.  He didn’t know what he was going to use that information for, but he would find something. Somehow.

 

Finnick tuned back into the conversation he was nominally participating in when Haymitch arrived, his escort pulling him along.

 

The woman elbowed the drunk Victor in the side and Finnick was reluctantly amused.  “Introduce me,” she hissed.

 

Haymitch scowled.  “My escort, Effie Trinket.  You know Finnick.”

 

He bowed and kissed her hand as he’d learned the Capitol ladies liked.  “Miss Trinket.”

 

She blushed.  “Oh my, it’s such an honor to meet you!  It’s not every day one gets to meet the youngest Victor in the history of the Games -- winning at fourteen is simply amazing!  I’m ever so pleased to meet you!”

 

His soulmate.  Fuck. Taking care not to show even one bit of what he was thinking, he said, “It’s my pleasure.”

 

She batted her eyes at him.  It was almost offensive, considering he was only sixteen.  Even if he felt like he was thousands of years old.

 

Fuck he hoped she didn’t try to buy him.  He wasn’t sure he could bear that, being used by his soulmate in that way.  Fuck fuck fuck.

 

This was nothing like he’d dreamed.

 

He sent a pleading glance at Haymitch, who nodded slightly, then vomited everywhere, including all over his escort.

 

As the woman pulled him away, Finnick watched them go, his heart slowly calming.  He hadn’t even realized how fast it had been racing.

 

Mags came up beside him.  “Is everything all right?” she asked quietly, standing on tiptoe to get as close to his ear as possible.

 

He smiled weakly.  “I think I’m tired.  Do you think I can go back to the rooms?”

 

Her answering smile was sad.  “You know the answer to that. But we can go to a balcony for a bit.”

 

It was the best he was going to get, so he gallantly escorted his old mentor -- walking slower and slower every year -- to one of the balconies overlooking the Capitol.  They stood in silence for a while, watching the lights of the city and the celebrations in the streets.

 

“You were right, you know.”

 

She just looked at him.

 

He touched the words on his hips, still hidden by both makeup and his pants.  “It wasn’t what I expected.”

 

“Haymitch’s escort?”

 

He should have known she saw everything.  He nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Mags put a hand on his shoulder.  “We’re still your family, lad.”

 

He leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head.  “I love you too, Mags.”

 

**oOo**


	4. Friends

**oOo**

 

Another year, another failure.

 

Effie had been District Twelve’s escort for five years now and they hadn’t had a single Victor.  This year was the closest they’d ever gotten -- the male tribute had been eighteen, strong, handsome.

 

And completely unable to swim.

 

She really needed to get into a better district.  Like One. Or Four. Unfortunately, neither of their escorts was anywhere near retirement.

 

As she entered Twelve’s quarters to pack up her belongings for the move back to her apartment, she was surprised to find Finnick Odair coming down the stairs that she thought led to the roof.  “What are you doing here?” she blurted out. Then she blushed. He’d been handsome at fourteen, when he’d won the Games. He’d been beautiful at sixteen, when she’d met him. Now, at nineteen, he was glorious.

 

His heartbreaking smile crossed his lips, but something about it felt off.  He shrugged. “I like the view.”

 

She put her hands on her hips.  “These are Twelve’s quarters.”

 

“Haymitch doesn’t mind.”

 

No, he probably didn’t care who traipsed through his rooms as long as they didn’t take away his alcohol.

 

“Show me?”  She wasn’t sure what had made her ask the question.  “I mean, I’ve never been up to the roof.”

 

He looked shocked.  “All this time in Twelve’s rooms and you haven’t been up to the roof?”

 

She shrugged a bit sheepishly.  “I guess I never saw the need.”

 

“Well, you have to experience it once.”

 

Finnick was right, she realized once they got upstairs.  The view was extraordinary. Watching the glitter and glimmer of lights, she smiled.  She’d have to come up here more often.

 

Finnick stood next to her, not saying a word.  The smile had slipped from his lips and he looked almost somber.

 

She wondered why.  His tribute had won, after all.

 

He looked at her and their eyes met.  “Tell me something,” he said.

 

She blinked.  “Like what?”

 

“A secret.”

 

Effie shrugged.  “I don’t have any of those.”

 

His lips quirked into a smile which felt somehow realer than his usual one, even if it was less beautiful.  “I don’t believe you.”

 

Well, she did have one.  But she wasn’t ready to tell him that.  Not yet.

 

It surprised her, that there was a ‘yet’ in that sentence.

 

Instead, she decided to pick something a little more superficial, but still personal.  Carefully, she took her wig off, revealing her limp dishwater blond hair. “You’re the first person to see this in, oh, twenty years.”

 

He tilted his head.  “I like you better without the wig.”

 

She shook her head, smiling ruefully.  “Mother always said it wasn’t impressive enough.”  She put her wig back on and adjusted it. She’d need a mirror to make certain it sat correctly, but this would do for now.  “I can’t really imagine myself without the wigs anymore.”

 

“Your choice.”  He glanced at his watch and grimaced the merest amount.  “I have to go.”

 

“To your Victor?”

 

“Appointment.”  He walked to the stairs and she followed.  When he was on the first step down, he looked back.  “It was nice. Talking to you, I mean.”

 

Her cheeks heated.  “Thanks.”

 

And then he was gone.

 

She took one more glance at the city before returning to Twelve’s rooms.  It hadn’t been a long conversation. And yet somehow she felt just the slightest bit better.

 

Smoothing a blanket over Haymitch, who was once again passed out on the couch, Effie decided that while she’d like to switch districts, she wasn’t ready to quit.  Not yet.

 

**oOo**

 

Annie crept up on him.

 

Oh, he vaguely recognized her when she was Reaped. She was one of the seventeen-year-olds who was good enough but not extraordinary, one of the ones who trained but didn’t put in extra time. Nobody important -- certainly not important enough for him to learn her name.

 

Until it was called.

 

No one volunteered to take her place, but then again, Four didn’t always have volunteers.  Not for the older kids, the healthy ones. The ones who stood a chance.

 

He really met her on the train, when he volunteered to mentor her.  It was the first time he’d taken on a lead mentor role. The past four years he’d helped, but he hadn’t led.  

 

But for Annie, he volunteered.  There was something about her. He wasn’t sure what it was.  But it was something that made him want to help her.

 

Kaya took Bonito, and with the other five as backup, they did their best to keep their tributes alive.

 

From conversations on the train to time in the Training Center to the start of the Games, Finnick kept his and Annie’s relationship as professional as he could.  He knew she was likely to die. As much as it was the catchphrase of the Hunger Games, the odds were never in anyone’s favor. Everyone started with a one in twenty-four chance of making it out alive.  Those odds could be improved with age, health, training, and sponsors. But even then, everyone had better odds of dying than surviving.

 

His hand rested on his soulmark.  Or at least, everyone but him.

 

Either way, he did his best to keep things professional.  To do what he could for his tribute, but to treat her like any other tribute from Four.  It worked, for a while. When Annie joined the Careers at the Cornucopia, killing the girl from Eight with a spear to prove her worth, he was able to keep himself separate.  When they went hunting and Annie almost vomited at what they did to the boy from Three, it was fine. When the hunger part of the Hunger Games came into play, he talked sponsors out of their money, but no more than he would have for any tribute.

 

But when the boy from One cut Bonito’s head off and Annie ran screaming into the night, Finnick’s heart plummeted and he suddenly realized he was gone.

 

He’d fallen in love with his tribute.

 

After that he worked even harder to save her, courting sponsors, trying to get her gifts, doing what he could.  It wasn’t much. No one in the Capitol thought the poor mad girl had a chance of surviving. Finnick bought her only parachute with his body.

 

And then the dam broke.

 

And like every kid from Four, Annie swam like, well, like a fish.

 

As the others drowned one by one, she kept her head above water and she survived.

 

After the Games, they pulled her out of that brand new lake and brought her back to the Capitol, where she’d go to the hospital to recover until the Victory Ceremony.  Physically, at least. Finnick wasn’t sure she’d ever recover mentally.

 

Mags took one look at him and told him to go to the roof for as long as he could.  They both knew he had an appointment with a patron that night, but he had a few hours for himself.

 

He wasn’t expecting to run into his soulmate in Twelve’s quarters.  He wasn’t expecting to offer to take her up to the roof. He wasn’t expecting to enjoy talking to her.

 

He wasn’t expecting her to make him feel better.

 

Oh, he didn’t love her.  Not the way he loved Annie.  Not even the way he loved his parents and sisters and Mags and the other Victors.  He wasn’t sure he could love a Capitolite that way. But something about her spoke to him.

 

As he put on his mask and did what his patron wanted, Finnick thought.  He thought about his tribute and about his soulmate. About the girl he’d fallen in love with and the woman he thought might one day be a friend.

 

The choice was his.  His body wasn’t. But who he loved… Snow couldn’t control that.  And one day -- sooner if he had his way -- Snow wouldn’t control anything.

 

In the afterglow, Finnick lay next to his patron.  “Tell me a secret.”

 

He didn’t have enough to take Snow down.  Not yet. But one day. One day he would.

 

**oOo**

 

More than anything, Effie relished the freedom she’d acquired by getting a job and an apartment of her own.  She hadn’t realized just how stifling living with her mother was until she wasn’t anymore.

 

Unfortunately, living apart from her mother didn’t entirely get her out of seeing her mother.

 

And of course her mother always had to ask the most embarrassing questions when they were out in public!

 

“Euphemia, when are you going to give me a grandchild?”

 

Effie gaped at her mother.  

 

Her mother rolled her eyes.  “You’re twenty-five, Euphemia.  Haven’t you even thought about children?”

 

“Of course I’ve thought about children!”

 

“Then why don’t you have any?”

 

“I’m only twenty-five, Mother.”

 

Her mother sniffed.  “I was only twenty when I had you.”

 

_ And you treated me like I was just another one of your dolls, _ Effie thought but didn’t say.  She didn’t feel old enough to have children now, let alone five years ago.  “I’m not married,” she said instead. It was an excuse. A weak one.

 

As evidenced by her mother’s single raised eyebrow.  “If you don’t want a husband, you don’t need one to have a child.  All you need is sex. Just go find a man.”

 

Effie hid a shudder.  She’d had sex. Three times.  The first time had been terrible.  So she’d tried again, with one of her classmates who had a reputation for good sex, particularly when it came to pleasing women.  And it had been okay. She hadn’t hated it. 

 

She just hadn’t liked it.

 

A second try with the same man proved that -- sex just wasn’t something she wanted.  Romance, yes. Especially if she ever found her soulmate. But even with her soulmate… she wasn’t sure she wanted sex.

 

“Or if you can’t find one -- and I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t be able to, you look quite pretty when you wear your wig and makeup -- go buy one.  A Victor, perhaps. That Finnick Odair is quite attractive.”

 

Something in Effie recoiled.  Even if she had wanted sex, the thought of using Finnick in that way after she’d seen a bit of the real him felt…

 

Wrong.

 

“It’s my life, Mother.  And I don’t want a child right now.”  Or possibly ever. Not that she was ready to tell her mother that.

 

Her mother sniffed.  “Well don’t wait too long.  I want time with my grandchild.”

 

Effie inwardly rolled her eyes.  “Yes, Mother.”

 

**oOo**

 

Being in Four always felt like a breath of fresh air after the stifling closeness of the Capitol.  Being outside on the beach felt even better. Being on the beach with Annie -- that was impossible to beat.

 

She had issues.  Nightmares every night and sometimes during the day.  Flashbacks. A tendency to run and hide whenever she remembered her Games.

 

The other Victors helped.  Finnick seemed to help the most.  He didn’t officially move into her house, but by the time four months had passed, he’d moved most of his Four clothing to her dresser, though his Capitol clothing remained in the closet.  His toothbrush had migrated to her bathroom. He went to his house to see his parents, but for all effects and purposes, he lived at Annie’s.

 

And he wasn’t just helping her; she was helping him.  The quiet life, when he could pretend it was just the two of them -- it was the most peace he’d had since winning his Games.  Possibly the most peace he’d ever had. He could be himself with her. And every moment they were together, he felt better than he ever had before.

 

They hadn’t had sex.  They hadn’t even kissed.  But Finnick had a feeling it would happen sooner or later, and he welcomed it when it did.  He never had before, but with Annie… with Annie he thought he would.

 

The day after they got home from the Victory Tour, Mags told him they were going for a swim.  Finnick knew why: the ocean was one of the hardest locations for the Capitol to bug. Besides, they were Four.  Too long away from the sea and all of them got antsy.

 

“Be careful, lad,” she said, still swimming as gracefully as ever despite the fact that she’d turned eighty only just this week.  

 

Finnick knew what she was talking about and found himself blushing.  He thought he’d suppressed the reaction after so many years of dealing with the Capitol.  But apparently not, not when it came to Annie… or the time when Mags had caught him sneaking into Annie’s compartment.  He knew his support was the only thing that got her through the Tour, and he’d offered it as much as he could. He was pretty sure Mags knew it too, and that was why she wasn’t stopping him.

 

Mags came up to him and tilted his chin so he was looking at her.  “You have a reputation and a duty.” Her voice was somber.

 

Finnick nodded.  He didn’t have to ask to know: marriage was out of the question.  He was the Capitol’s playtoy, Four’s playboy, and marriage would change his image.  And, more importantly, his sale value.

 

Speaking of…

 

“Do you know the plans for Annie?  I don’t think she can handle, well…” he trailed off, but he knew Mags would understand.

 

“No, she can’t.  I spoke to the President while we were in the Capitol.”  Her lips thinned. “How much are you willing to do for her?”

 

“Whatever I have to.”  The words were instant.

 

“Good.  Because you may end up with some of her sponsors.”

 

Finnick shuddered.  He didn’t want more forced sex with Capitolites.  But if it kept Annie from having to do the same, he’d fuck the entire Capitol.  Including President Snow.

 

Mags nodded to Annie, who was swimming toward them.  “I’ll leave you two alone.”

 

Finnick watched to make sure Mags got back to the shore safely, then turned his attention to Annie.  “Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

They were far enough out that his feet couldn’t reach the ground.  But he’d never felt safer.

 

She took his hand in hers as they treaded water.  “Be honest with me?”

 

“Always.”

 

Annie bit her lip then blurted out, “You have a soulmark.”

 

He didn’t bother to hide it when he was in Four.  Most of the time it was under his pants anyway, but his swimming trunks hung lower.  She must have seen it this morning when he’d left with Mags. “Yes. I do.” He considered what to say.  “You burst into my heart, Annie. I didn’t know how much I loved you until I already did.” It was the first time he’d said the L word and it didn’t scare him at all.  It felt right. “You’re the one I want.”

 

“Even over your soulmate?”

 

Effie popped into his mind.  He liked her -- something he hadn’t expected when he’d first met her.  But what he felt for her was nothing compared to what he felt for Annie.  Friendship -- that was possible. Love wasn’t. “Yes. Completely. I choose you, Annie.  Not fate. Just me.”

 

She smiled.  “I choose you too.”  She took a deep breath.  “Do you know… who it is?”

 

He’d promised honesty.  He wasn’t going to go back on that.  “Effie Trinket. The escort for Twelve.  She doesn’t know.”

 

“And you don’t…”

 

He shook his head.  “I could be friends with her, I think.  But you’re the one I love.”

 

Her smile was blinding.  “I love you too.”

 

“We have to be circumspect,” he warned, squeezing her hand.

 

“I know.  Mags told me.”  She looked down for a moment then met his eyes.  “She told me why too.”

 

Finnick smiled ruefully.  “I wish we could have everything.”

 

“But that’s not the world we live in.  It’s all sacrifices, isn’t it?” Her thumb rubbed the back of his hand.  “The Games, the Capitol… they take and take and take. I’m broken and you’re owned.”

 

Broken as she was, she still saw the truth.  “Yeah. But we have each other.”

 

Annie leaned in and kissed him lightly, just a peck of the lips.  She tasted of salt and sun. “We do. And we always will.”

 

**oOo**


	5. Victors

**oOo**

 

They’d won!  In her ninth year as the escort to District Twelve, her district had finally won the Hunger Games -- and both of her tributes, too!  It was the love story of the century: soulmates, kept apart until they came together in that most dangerous of places, the Hunger Games!

 

Effie was ever so excited.

 

Unfortunately, both of her Victors were still in the hospital, and it looked like poor Peeta would lose his leg.  But at least he wouldn’t lose his life.

 

Effie had gone to the hospital, but there wasn’t anything for her to do there.  She made certain the doctors knew to call her the instant either Katniss or Peeta looked even close to waking up.  But after that, she returned to the Training Center. After all, she couldn’t go home yet -- she would be needed. Would, not might.  This year she wasn’t sticking around just to go to the parties. No, this year she had a purpose.

 

Standing on the roof, staring at the Capitol, Effie reveled in her success.  Their success. Katniss and Peeta had been worthy tributes. Haymitch had actually done his part for once.  And she’d been the best escort she could be. Watching the parties, letting the glory wash over her… she felt it out here.  And it was amazing.

 

There were footsteps on the stairs and then beside her.  She didn’t turn to see who it would be; she had a feeling she already knew.

 

“Hey.”

 

And she was right.  It was Finnick.

 

This was their fifth year meeting on the roof.

 

“Hey,” she responded.

 

“Congratulations.”

 

She beamed at him.  “Thank you!” She placed her hand over his where it rested on the railing.  “I’m sorry. About your tributes.”

 

“Thanks.”  He smiled that honest smile, the one she only saw up here.  The one she only saw when they were alone.

 

After five years of meeting on the roof like this, she almost felt like they were friends.  And wasn’t that odd? She’d had such a crush on Finnick, but now… now she was just glad to be his friend.  Or, well, whatever they were.

 

The cheering in the streets was audible even from up here.  The two of them watched in silence.

 

Finally Finnick broke it.  “Tell me something.”

 

Her lips curved.  “Like what?”

 

“A secret.”

 

“I don’t have any of those.”

 

He grinned.  “I don’t believe you.”

 

They had the same exchange every year.  And every year, Effie told him something about herself.  Her hair, her dislike of her full name, her utter failure at finding a job until she’d become an escort.  Last year she’d told him about her mother’s pressure to deliver grandchildren.

 

This year, she knew exactly what she wanted to say.

 

“I don’t like sex.”

 

Finnick tilted his head at her.

 

“I just… I don’t see the point.”

 

“Have you had good sex?”

 

“Yeah.”  She had. It just hadn’t done anything for her.

 

“What about romance?”

 

“I like romance.  I wouldn’t mind being wined and dined.  But I could do without the sex.” It was a large part of why she’d never had a long-term serious relationship.  Everyone wanted something she didn’t.

 

Finnick simply nodded and stared out at the city again.  Effie joined him and they watched as the fireworks started.  A heart appeared outlining Katniss and Peeta’s names.

 

“Can I tell you a secret?”

 

That wasn’t part of their usual exchange.  But there was only one possible answer. “Of course.”

 

“I don’t much like sex either.”

 

She had to bite back her automatic response.  He was Finnick Odair, playboy. He had to like sex!

 

But there was the fakeness of his smiles.  The way he hid himself. The way he never quite seemed happy when he was on a date.

 

Some of the things her mother had said.

 

Instead of saying anything, she just put her hand on his.  They stood together, watching the fireworks.

 

When the fireworks ended and the party moved south, away from the Training Center, Finnick spoke.  “I should go check on Mags.”

 

Effie nodded.  “I should go check on Haymitch.”

 

He tugged on her hand until she faced him.  “I’ll see you at the banquet?”

 

“If I’m not too busy with Katniss and Peeta.”

 

His expression turned complicated in a way she couldn’t read.  “Take care of them. They’re going to need it.”

 

She squeezed his hand.  “I’ll do my best.”

 

**oOo**

 

For the first time since he’d won the Hunger Games nine years ago, Finnick wasn’t the most popular Victor in the room.

 

No, tonight that honor went to Katniss and Peeta.

 

He felt old.  Old and weary.  Those kids had no idea what they were getting into or what they were going to have to do to survive.  Being soulmates and together would get them out of some of it. But it would make other parts worse.

 

He didn’t bother trying to meet them.  Getting through the crowd wasn’t worth it -- and besides, they’d have plenty of time for that later.  All those long years of mentoring loomed ahead of him for a moment and he had to hold himself very still to keep himself from vomiting.

 

Distracting himself by looking around the room for the other Victors, Finnick spotted Haymitch standing by Katniss and Peeta.  Effie was with him, fluttering as ever. He knew her well enough to know she would be trying to be helpful but failing miserably -- Katniss was far too similar to Haymitch for Effie’s Capitol ways to work on her.

 

Effie caught his eye and smiled, then nodded at the pair.  “Sorry,” she mouthed.

 

He shook his head, giving her a shrug that hopefully would tell her not to worry about it.  She needed to take care of her Victors. They’d talk next year, or maybe on the Victory Tour.

 

The next person to catch his eye was Johanna, who was holding court in her usual way: insulting anyone who came near.  He’d never understood why the Capitol kept coming back for more, but some of them seemed to like it. Masochists, maybe.  She winked at him, then said something that made the whole group laugh.

 

In one corner he saw Cashmere and Gloss, looking like nothing so much as ornaments for the glittery purple Capitolite between them.  Probably their patron for the night.

 

Finnick shuddered.  At least he’d never had to fuck any of his siblings.

 

Wiress and Chaff stood talking in another corner, unpopular as ever.  Lucky them. Mags and Annie joined them after a few moments, then Mags and Wiress made an exchange: Mags handed her Annie and received some small item that Finnick couldn’t see.  At least Annie would be safe with the reject Victors.

 

He paused in his watching to flirt with a Capitolite who’d approached him -- nothing serious, just smiles and words.

 

And then Mags was standing next to him.  “Can I steal you for a bit?”

 

Finnick smiled at the girl he was talking to, then gently kissed her hand.  “Duty calls,” he said, making sure it was still his flirtatious voice.

 

She giggled.  “Of course, of course!  Will I see you again?”

 

“I hope so.”  He didn’t. But he couldn’t exactly say that.  At least he had Mags affecting a rescue.

 

Mags took his arm and they walked to one of the balconies.  One of the smaller ones, Finnick noticed, with only enough space for maybe four people to stand unless they were literally on top of each other.  Oddly, Mags closed the door behind them, closing them off from the banquet as much as she could.

 

Finnick frowned.  “What’s going on?”

 

Mags took out the item Wiress had given her and pressed a couple of buttons.  Suddenly there was this almost buzzing sound, just below the edges of his hearing.  “There,” she said. “Now we can talk privately.”

 

Whatever the item was… apparently it blocked the bugs.  That made it worth its weight in gold. “Is there something to talk about?”

 

“He’s not happy.”  She didn’t have to say who ‘he’ was.  “Katniss and Peeta defied the Capitol.  They’re going to be a focus for rebellion.”

 

“That would be great if there was a rebellion.”

 

She grinned.  “There is. And it’s time you knew about it.”

 

Finnick stared at her.  He’d been collecting secrets for years now in hopes that one day he’d be able to bring Snow -- and ideally the whole Capitol with him -- down.  But most of him hadn’t really expected it to go anywhere. “What?”

 

“District Thirteen isn’t gone, lad.  We’ve been in contact for a while, and plans have been in progress.  The details are being worked out, but next year is the Quell. With that and two Victors this year… we’ve finally got a figurehead.”

 

He nodded slowly.  “I’ve been collecting secrets.”

 

“And you may be called on to use them.”

 

“Who else is involved?”  He had suspicions. Beetee and Wiress had to be, if they were making devices that blocked bugs.  A lot of the other Victors were likely… He quickly sorted them into ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ and ‘maybe’ categories in his head.  Johanna was probably too volatile, and Districts One and Two were almost certainly out. Annie wouldn’t be trusted. But Haymitch was likely in, along with Chaff and Seeder and probably some of the other older Victors.

 

Mags opened her mouth, but the device in her hand gave a warning beep.  “Let’s go back to the party,” she said instead of whatever she’d been about to say.  “I’ll introduce you to some of the others.”

 

Finnick took her arm.  “Sounds like a plan.”

 

**oOo**


	6. Quell

**oOo**

 

Effie couldn’t believe this was happening.

 

Everything had seemed so rosy last year, her two Victors winning the Games, finding out they were soulmates, getting engaged… it was all so perfect!

 

And now this.

 

Katniss and Peeta weren’t just any two tributes.  They were hers. They mattered. And that wasn’t even… no.  She was not thinking about that.

 

Was this how the districts felt every year, watching two of their own go into the Games?  Effie didn’t know how they lived with it. And she knew she’d never look at the Games the same way again.

 

Part of her wanted to leave, quit her job, run as far away as she could.  But she couldn’t do that, not now. Not when she had two tributes to save.  Not when Haymitch would need her.

 

With scores of twelve from the Gamemakers, Katniss and Peeta would be targets.  And there was nothing she could do about that.

 

Effie was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice there was anyone else on the roof until he dropped onto the bench next to her.

 

“Hey.”

 

She couldn’t help it -- she threw herself into Finnick’s arms and clutched him like a lifeline.  

 

He patted her back as she cried into his shoulder.  “It’s okay.”

 

“It’s not!  You’re going to die!”

 

He tilted her chin up.  “I’ll do my best not to.”

 

Her lip wobbled.  “But… Katniss and Peeta.  And all the rest.”

 

Pulling off her new golden wig, he ran a hand through her hair.  “We’ll all do our best.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t tell you everything, Effie.  But if Haymitch tells you to do something, do it, all right?”

 

He wasn’t smiling at all -- not his fake smile, nor even the real one he only gave her in private.  He was serious, deadly serious.

 

She nodded.  “Okay.” Then she buried her face in his shoulder again.

 

When she finally stopped crying, she pulled herself away and blotted her face, noticing as she did that he’d been crying too.  Luckily she always carried an extra handkerchief.

 

Once they were cleaned up, they sat in silence on the bench, her hand in his.  Effie didn’t want to stare at the Capitol this year. It was beautiful, yes. But it was hiding so much ugliness.

 

“Tell me something,” Finnick said, breaking the silence.

 

Effie wasn’t sure she wanted to go through this exchange again.  Not when he usually asked her after the Games. She knew why he was asking her now: there might not be an after the Games, not for him.  She wanted to wait, have it after he survived. If he survived. But he wanted to have it now -- so she would. “Like what?”

 

“A secret.”

 

“I don’t have any of those.”

 

“I don’t believe you.”  His lips curved in the first smile she’d seen from him all night.

 

This time, she knew exactly what she wanted to tell him.  If he died next week -- and he had a twenty-three in twenty-four chance of doing so -- there was one secret she wanted him to know.

 

“I have a soulmate,” she said.  She twisted enough that she could lift her skirt and show him the back of her leg.  “I don’t know who it is. But I know they’re out there, somewhere.”

 

“Miss Trinket,” he read.  Then he looked back at her face.  “Common greeting, I guess?”

 

She sat back down and smoothed her skirt over her legs.  “I lost count around when I hit two hundred. I was eleven.”

 

He whistled.  “That’s a lot.”

 

“I doubt I’ll ever find them unless they find me first.  I was five when I spotted it but..." She shook her head.  “I don’t know if it had been there a day or a month. I know they’re not dead -- the words are still bronze, right?”

 

He nodded.

 

“But I have no idea who they are or if I’ll ever meet them.”

 

There wasn’t much to say to that, and Finnick didn’t try.  He just squeezed her hand once, a comforting gesture.

 

She didn’t ask if he had a soulmate.  That was far too personal of a question.  If he wanted to tell her, he would.

 

They sat in silence, just being together, until Effie yawned three times in five minutes.

 

“You should go to bed,” Finnick said.

 

She licked her lip.  “I… I hope this isn’t our last conversation, Finnick.”  It felt disloyal, to hope a tribute from another district would win.  But as much as she loved Katniss and Peeta, she couldn’t hope Finnick died.

 

He kissed her on the forehead.  “I hope it isn’t either.”

 

**oOo**

 

After nudging Effie down the stairs and into bed, Finnick found Haymitch sitting on the couch in the living area of Twelve’s suite, staring unseeingly at the turned-off television.  

 

Haymitch looked up and gestured for Finnick to join him.  Just as well: he had some things he needed to ask Haymitch.

 

Taking out one of Beetee’s toys, Haymitch blocked the bugs.  Then he looked seriously at Finnick. He was more sober than he’d ever been, at least in Finnick’s memory, and his gray eyes were piercing.  “You’re still in on this rebellion.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And getting the kids out.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Dying for them if you have to.”

 

Finnick took a deep breath.  “Yes.”

 

Haymitch nodded.  Then he pulled off a bangle he was wearing -- gold, with a flame pattern.  It wasn’t Haymitch’s style at all. He handed it to Finnick. “Here’s your token.”

 

Finnick frowned.  He’d been planning on bringing either his token from his first Games -- a necklace his sisters had made him -- or something from Annie.  “Why?”

 

“Got word from Plutarch.  Word is Snow wants you to win.”

 

“Me?  Why?”

 

“Because you’re a good little whore.  And his biggest cash cow.”

 

Well, Finnick couldn’t dispute that, no matter how much he wanted to.

 

“If it can’t be you, he’s hoping for Cashmere or Gloss.  Probably wouldn’t be upset at Brutus or Enobaria. But he wants the rest dead.”

 

Finnick held up the bangle.  “What’s that got to do with this?”

 

Ignoring his question, Haymitch said, “The Gamemakers had strict orders to make sure the Arena was water-based.”

 

Finnick nodded slowly.  That would definitely help his odds.  Mags could swim as well as he could, but she was in her eighties -- being able to swim might increase her odds a little, but not enough.  He knew One and Two both taught their Careers to swim, but the other nine districts probably didn’t have the skills. It would definitely bias the Games toward the Careers.

 

If, of course, any of them had planned on playing fair.

 

“I need you helping Katniss.  And she’s not going to trust you unless she’s got a reason.”

 

“And she’ll recognize this?”

 

“I’ve been wearing it all week.  Effie got it for me, some kind of Twelve solidarity thing.  She’ll know it.”

 

Finnick put the bangle on.  If he couldn’t have something from his family or his love, something from his soulmate -- even if she didn’t know -- wasn’t a bad choice.  Then he leaned forward and caught Haymitch’s eyes, doing his best to be just as serious as the other man. “Haymitch. When Thirteen comes… get Effie out.”

 

The rest of Four’s Victors knew to look out for Annie.  Natalie was gone now, Jack didn’t know about the rebellion yet, and Skiff was determined to stay in the Capitol since he had no one left and the rebellion might need the intel, but Fisk and Kaya would get her out.

 

But no one would be there for Effie.

 

Haymitch’s eyebrows rose.  “Didn’t know you knew my escort.”

 

Finnick shrugged, his fake semi-sexual shrug.  “We’re friends.”

 

“Pull the other one, kid.”

 

He sighed.  He hadn’t really expected to fool Haymitch.  “She’s my soulmate.”

 

That got a real reaction.  “Wasn’t expecting that.”

 

“She doesn’t know.  And don’t tell her.”

 

“Now that I can see.  And I won’t. All right.”  Haymitch pointed at him. “You take care of Katniss in the Games, I’ll take care of Effie outside of ‘em.”

 

“It’s a deal.”

 

“Now get, I want to enjoy my silence.”

 

Finnick got.

 

He wasn’t surprised to find Annie in their bed when he got down to Four’s floor.  She was reading, one of the Capitol romance novels she loved so much. He’d never gotten into them, but he understood why she liked books that were guaranteed to have a happy ending.

 

Annie watched as he undressed, half-hiding behind her book, and he put on a bit of a show just for her.  Not the usual strip show he did for his patrons, but a more playful version. He was rewarded by her grin and the sparkle in her eyes.

 

Climbing into bed, he curled up next to her.

 

She ran a hand over his hair.  “How are you doing?”

 

And there came reality crashing down.  He didn’t quite burst into tears, but a few escaped.  His hands shook as he tried to deal with all the emotion he’d been suppressing.  “Terrified,” he managed to say.

 

It was the truth.  Going into the Games at fourteen, he’d been scared.  Of course he’d been scared -- who wouldn’t be? But there’d been a part of him that had known he would survive.  That had known he’d be the Victor.

 

He didn’t have that assurance now.  The Arena was biased in his favor. The rebellion was working to get all of them out.  They had the bread code, Beetee’s plans. But so many things could go wrong.

 

There was no guarantee he would make it out alive.

 

And what about Annie?  How would she handle things if he died?  His parents and siblings would have lived if he’d died, back when he was fourteen.  They would have moved on. If he died now, they would do the same. But Annie…

 

Like he’d said, he was terrified.

 

As Annie stroked his hair and shoulders, murmuring soothing phrases, he let it all come out.  As broken as she was, she could handle this.

 

Earlier, he’d been the one about to die -- and still the one comforting Effie.  His soulmate wasn’t his equal.

 

Annie was.

 

He clutched her hand.  “If I die…”

 

“I don’t want you to.”

 

“I don’t either.  But if I die, I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”  She leaned in and kissed him.

 

He responded eagerly, holding her close.  He wanted this. He wanted her. “Make love to me?”

 

“No.”  She smiled, a slow beautiful smile.  “But I will make love with you.”

 

He captured her lips again, wanting to feel her, taste her.  He wanted to know every part of her. He wanted her to know every part of him.  “I choose you, Annie,” he said when he had to pull away to breathe. “I will always choose you.”

 

“And I will always choose you, Finnick.”  

 

**oOo**


	7. Revolution

**oOo**

 

Watching the Games was terrible.

 

Effie knew these people.  She’d met most of them. One was a friend.  And two were hers.

 

There was no good ending here.  If Finnick survived, Katniss and Peeta would die.  If one of them survived, the other would die. There was no way for both her Victors to survive like they had last year.  No matter what happened, more than one person she cared about was going to die.

 

She was glad to see her three favorites working together, and she did everything she could to get them sponsors.

 

But the others were dropping like flies.  By the third day of the Games, there were only eight tributes left.

 

Beetee led the group in a plot to take out the others with electricity, a plot Effie definitely didn’t understand.  A plot that, when enacted, made all the screens go dark.

 

And then Haymitch was there, dragging her toward… well, she honestly didn’t know.  “Where are we going?” she panted out as she hurried to keep up with him.

 

“Somewhere safe.”

 

“But, the Games, the others…”

 

“We’re not the only ones heading out.”

 

She was having trouble keeping up.  These shoes were not made for running.

 

“Do you want me to leave you behind?  You don’t know anything, but you think Snow will believe that?”

 

Her blood ran cold.  No, she didn’t think anyone would believe that, even though it was true.  Finnick had told her to listen to Haymitch, and she was going to. Forcing her legs to keep moving, she caught up to Haymitch and made it to the hovercraft.

 

Plutarch Heavensbee, of all people, was waiting for them on the craft.

 

“The others?” Haymitch asked as he strapped himself down.  Effie followed his example.

 

“We’re working on it.  But we’ve got to go.”

 

Effie waited until they took off, dodging who knew what and making her want to vomit.  “Where are we going?” she hissed at Haymitch when the flight and her stomach finally calmed down.

 

“District Thirteen.”

 

“But it’s gone!”

 

The infuriating man smirked.  “Welcome to the rebellion, Princess.”

 

**oOo**

 

They hadn’t rescued Annie.

 

According to Haymitch and Plutarch, they’d tried, but Snow had gotten there first.  

 

And now the love of his life was trapped in the Capitol.  Along with Johanna, Enobaria, and Peeta. His love, a friend, someone who understood a lot of what he was going through, and someone he didn’t know well but was coming to like.  

 

At least those four had a chance.  So many others were dead -- eighteen of the Victors who had entered the Quell Arena had never made it out.  He didn’t know about Four’s other Victors or his family.

 

Mags.  Fuck, Mags.

 

She’d sacrificed herself for Peeta.  And as much as they’d all agreed to do it,  he hadn’t expected how much it would hurt.

 

Finnick tried to keep going.

 

He spent time with Katniss and they commiserated over their captured loves.  He tied every knot he knew over and over and over. He tried to help with plans and plots and all the secrets he knew.  But he couldn’t concentrate.

 

He hadn’t realized just how much Annie had helped until he suddenly didn’t have her.  His support system was gone and while others tried to fill those roles, they could only do so much.

 

Effie was there, which was something.  But she was fragile. And he didn’t want to break her.  So he leaned on her, but not as much as he needed to.

 

And then the rescue mission went out.

 

And they needed a distraction.

 

It was time.

 

He told his secrets.  The ones he’d gathered in almost ten years of being sold.  Every secret he’d ever been told about Snow, his deputies, and anyone who mattered.  The truth of what was done to the Victors, the truth of what was done to the Avoxes. It all came out in a torrent which was broadcast throughout Panem.

 

He didn’t tell Effie’s secrets.  Those belonged to him alone. Besides, out of all the people he’d learned secrets from, Effie alone had never told him a secret that could harm anyone but herself.  They were her truths, not poison for the Capitol.

 

Instead he wrapped up everything he knew and sent it as a gift to Snow.

 

It would change how everyone else saw him, he knew.  He’d just shattered the illusion of safety -- definitely for Katniss, and probably for others.

  
But if it got Annie back, revealing himself -- no matter what reactions it brought -- was worth it.

 

**oOo**

 

After the propo, Effie found Finnick sitting in a corner of the hallway, tying his ever-present rope into knots.

 

Heedless of what it would do to her clothing -- her Thirteen uniform didn’t exactly matter anyway -- she sat down next to him.  She didn’t say anything. Honestly, she didn’t know what to say. His revelations of just how deep corruption ran through the Capitol… she hadn’t expected those.

 

And his revelations of what was done to the Victors were worse.

 

No, she didn’t know what to say.  But she could be there for him.

 

Finally, he broke the silence.  “Tell me something.”

 

“Like what?”  By now, the words were automatic.

 

“A secret.”

 

“I don’t have any of those.”

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

He didn’t smile.  But the exchange and the knots seemed to bring him at least some level of peace.

 

She’d told him most of her secrets by now.  There was only one left.

 

And after his revelations…

 

It was time.

 

“I don’t know who my father is.  Or was, I suppose. I don’t know.”  She took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a Victor.  But I’m fairly certain, whoever he was, that my mother bought him.”

 

Finnick stared at her.

 

“I didn’t know what Snow did to you.  But I think part of that was because I didn’t want to know.”

 

He inched closer to her.  “I didn’t know. About your father.”

 

Effie smiled ruefully.  “I wouldn’t expect you to.”  She’d kept that quiet for a long time.  “So… secrets.”

 

“I’ve been collecting them for years.”

 

“Including mine.”

 

He gave a half-shrug, his hands busy making another knot.  “Your secrets could only harm you.”

 

“And my mother.”

 

“True.  But most Capitolites, when I ask for a secret -- they tell me something harmful about someone else.  How someone else cheated their way to a position. How someone else destroyed another person’s life. How someone else stole something that mattered.  You always told me about yourself.” He put his hand on hers. “I like our conversations.”

 

She smiled, then looked around.  “I miss the roof. It feels odd to have this conversation underground.”

 

He nodded.

 

They sat together in silence, his hands still busy with the rope, hers simply fidgeting.

 

A loudspeaker crackled to life and a calm female voice began speaking.  “Will the following people please report to the Infirmary. Haymitch Abernathy.  Katniss Everdeen. Finnick Odair. Beetee Latier.” 

 

The list continued but both of them stopped paying attention.

 

“Do you think they…” Finnick trailed off.

 

Effie nodded.  “I hope so.” 

 

“Annie,” he breathed.

 

Until the Quell, until that conversation he’d had with Katniss live on air, until Effie was in and out of the mentor’s area and saw how Annie was reacting to the sight of Finnick in that Arena, she hadn’t known he and Annie were together.  They’d hidden it well -- probably because of the demands on Finnick’s time. And body. And even his soul. But she’d seen his worry, heard the way he talked about Annie.

 

Five years ago, she might have been jealous.

 

But now, she just wanted him to be happy.  “Come on,” she said, standing up. She reached down to help Finnick to his feet.  “Let’s go reunite you with your… Annie.”

 

**oOo**

 

Lying in bed with Annie the night after their wedding was the happiest Finnick had ever been.

 

His wife was beautiful.  Amazing. Perfect. So many other words he couldn’t think of right now.

 

His.

 

And he was hers.

 

It had been a weird ceremony.  Indoors and underground, when Four’s weddings always happened outside by the ocean.  Music and dancing that was more from Twelve than anywhere else. Annie wearing a Capitol-made dress, him in a tailored suit.

 

But they’d had the saltwater, the net, Four’s wedding song.  And most importantly, they’d had each other.

 

Unfortunately, their peace and quiet wasn’t going to last long.  Only a few days after their wedding, training started. Annie wasn’t able to participate; there was no way she’d ever pass a psychiatric evaluation and both of them knew it.  But Finnick could. And after a long discussion about what was owed and what was right, they decided together that he should.

 

Before he left for the Capitol, he said goodbye to Annie.  He’d already done this, only a few months ago, and it felt both different and the same.

 

His secrets didn’t matter anymore, not the way they had before the Quell, so he handed her a stack of letters.  “If I die…” He took a deep breath. “These are labeled with who they’re for.”

 

She looked through the pile and he knew which names she would see.  The other Victors from Four, his family, Johanna, Haymitch, Beetee, Katniss and Peeta, other Victors who might still be alive.  Her. And Effie. Each of them meant something. Before the Quell, he wouldn’t have written those letters. Too much risk of everything getting out and someone suffering for it.  But now was different.

 

There was even a letter for Snow, one that was almost gloating.  He’d had fun with that one.

 

Annie put the stack in a cupboard.  Then she pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around his neck.  “Come back to me, Finnick.”

 

He kissed her.  “I’ll do my best.”

 

**oOo**


	8. After

**oOo**

 

Effie Trinket didn’t know when her soulmate had died.

 

Oh, she knew it had happened sometime after the Quell.  But the exact date was a mystery.

 

The grandiose bronze handwriting reading * _Miss Trinket_ * had turned gray sometime after she’d fled to Thirteen but before she’d returned to the Capitol.  She still didn’t know who it had been. She wasn’t sure she would ever know.

 

But even without ever meeting them, it still felt like something was missing.

 

She’d gone back to the Capitol, hoping things would be the same.  But they weren’t.

 

Her apartment was ransacked, her mother was in jail, and when she finally took a look the words on the back of her thigh had turned gray.

 

All of it just felt wrong.

 

The Capitol no longer felt quite like home, but she had commitments, and she was going to keep them.  Haymitch had returned to Twelve along with Katniss, but Peeta was here. And Peeta had no one. Which meant he needed her.  So she packed up her bags, moved back into the Training Center, and helped him with whatever she could -- hospital visits, healing, just making sure he was doing okay.

 

She didn’t go up to the roof.  

 

Without Finnick, she didn’t want to be up there.

 

Her Victors had survived -- Katniss and Peeta would be okay with time.  Haymitch would live as much as he ever did. But most of the other Victors were gone.  Finnick was gone.

 

She hadn’t realized how much she would miss their conversations until there was no chance of them happening ever again.  She was glad she’d told him all of her secrets. That he’d known it all. It felt like things might have been left incomplete without that.

 

Once Peeta finally healed enough that he could return to Twelve, Effie packed up her things and returned with him.  It wasn’t her home. But at this point, neither was the Capitol. And maybe it was time to try something new.

 

She brought some of her clothing, but not her highest heels.  And she left every single one of her wigs in the Capitol. It was time for a new Effie.

 

The houses in Victor’s Village were mostly empty, with only Haymitch, Katniss, and Peeta living there.  And watching Katniss and Peeta, Effie had a feeling they would only need one house sometime soon. But for now, she moved into the house next to Peeta’s and started helping the survivors to rebuild the town.

 

Somehow, Twelve became a focus for the rebuilding.  What had been Panem’s smallest and least important district was now becoming a central location.  And Effie was right in the thick of it.

 

Slowly the survivors refilled the district.  There wasn’t much left, so the houses in Victor’s Village acquired occupants.  Johanna and Enobaria and Beetee all left their home districts and joined the rest of them.  Some of the people from Thirteen moved in. Thom and Delly got married and took a house. Sae and her granddaughter moved closer to the center of town.

 

Effie found she liked these people and this life.

 

When Annie and her son finally came to Twelve -- almost a full year after the revolution, once Annie and Charley were both healthy enough to travel -- there were no houses left for them in the old Victor’s Village.  They could have moved into one of the newer buildings, but it wasn’t quite right.

 

Effie looked at this woman who Finnick had loved.  She looked at his son.

 

And she found herself offering her home.  After all, she only used one bedroom -- she didn’t need all the empty ones.  It was a lot of space for one person.

 

Annie looked at her, her gaze surprisingly piercing for a woman who was commonly known as mad.  Then she nodded. “All right,” she said. “We’ll move in with you.”

 

That night, after Charley was in bed, Effie found herself sitting with Annie at the kitchen table, a cup of tea cradled in her hands.  

 

“He looks like his father,” she said.

 

Annie smiled.  “He does.” She took a sip then wrapped her hands around the mug.  “When Finnick left for the Capitol, he gave me a stack of letters and asked me to distribute them.  I… wasn’t able to handle it right after we found out about his death.”

 

Effie nodded.  She wasn’t quite sure what to say.

 

Annie pulled something out.  A letter. “I’m going to give most of them out tomorrow.  But this one is for you.” She held it out.

 

Effie took it.

 

And then she almost dropped it.

 

There, on the front, the envelope read “Miss Trinket” in very familiar handwriting: handwriting she’d known since she was five.  Her hand shook as she put it on the table and ran her fingers over the words. She stared at Annie, wondering if Annie had known.  “He was…”

 

Annie’s smile was sad.  “Yes.”

 

With shaking fingers she opened the letter and took it out.

 

_Effie,_

 

_I’m not sure how to start this letter or how to say what I need to say.  For a long time, I wasn’t going to tell you. If I’m lucky and live, you’ll never see this letter, and I’ll be able to tell you in person.  But if I die… if I die, I want you to know the truth._

 

_Do you remember when we first met?  It was after the Sixty-Seventh Hunger Games.  I don’t know if you remember what you said, but I always will. “Oh my, it’s such an honor to meet you!  It’s not every day one gets to meet the youngest Victor in the history of the Games -- winning at fourteen is simply amazing!  I’m ever so pleased to meet you!” I knew immediately that you were my soulmate._

 

_I’ve always known I would win the Games.  I’ve always known when. You gave me that._

 

_I can’t apologize for hiding it, because that apology would be a lie.  After everything the Capitol did to me, I didn’t want a soulmate from the Capitol.  And then I fell in love with Annie._

 

_But even so, you wormed your way into my heart.  You made me feel better whenever we talked. You’re one of my best friends.  If you died, I would miss you. And if I die in this war, I know you’ll miss me._

 

_Finnick_

 

Effie carefully folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.  Her eyes prickled with unshed tears.

 

Annie watched her, her face carefully calm.

 

Swiping at her eyes, Effie rested her face in her hands.  “I didn’t know.”

 

“He didn’t want you to.”

 

She took a deep breath.  “I’m glad he had you.”

 

“I’m glad he had you too.”  Annie wrapped her hands around her mug.  “He knew you were his soulmate, and you helped.  Believe in that.”

 

Effie nodded slowly as she looked at Annie.  At her soulmate’s wife. “We’ll get through this,” she said firmly.  “He would want us to.”

 

“Yes.  Yes he would.”  Annie held out a hand.  “And thank you. For letting us move in here.”

 

Effie took her hand.  “Always.”

 

**oOo**

**Author's Note:**

> This fic didn't quite write itself, but it definitely was in my head for a long time and I've finally gotten it to come out. I've had this idea for a while -- and when I thought about giving FanficAllergy a birthday present, this is what wanted to be written.
> 
> I started off thinking this would be a relatively short fic. When I hit 2k, I knew it would be at least 5k. When I hit 4k, I realized I'd hit 10k. When I hit 7k, I went "oh shit." And then it hit 13k. Oops?
> 
> In case you're wondering, Effie told me she was asexual when I was writing that scene with her mother. Finnick told me he was demisexual when Effie was telling him about her asexuality. Annie, in case you're wondering, is heterosexual.
> 
> I could see Finnick and Effie working in another universe, but not in Panem as it stands. The world is too damaging. And while this story doesn't really have a happy ending, I do think it has the right one.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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